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BLACKMAIL 


AN EPISODE IN FINESSE 


BY 

WILLIAM TIMOTHY CALL 

n 


Price, 50 Cents 


W. T. CALL 

669 East Thirty-Second Street 
BROOKLYN, N. Y. 
1915 


Copyright, 1915, by 
WILLIAM TIMOTHY CALL 



AUG 24 mb 

©CI.A410200 


PREFACE 

One of the best story-tellers among Ameri- 
can writers was the author of the Albatross 
novels. I suppose his work may be classed as 
trash, but there are half a dozen books in the 
score and more he wrote that seem to have 
been painstakingly thought out, and they made 
him dear ♦to millions of readers. In his off- 
hand way of making the improbable appear 
real there is a peculiarly intimate quality that 
few of the masters of high grade fiction pos- 
sess. He has recorded with surprise that he 
had received many letters asking whether the 
persons and occurrences he brought so close 
to his readers were real or invented. And he 
sincerely answered that they were real in his 
imagination. 


3 


There is a story by Amelia E. Barr that is 
much finer literature than the best of the 
Albatross novels — in fact, a work of art in 
fiction — that modern classic, “Jan Vedder’s 
Wife” — in which this singular property of 
vraisemblance is wonderfully shown. 

I have often wished I had an endowment of 
the kind possessed by those writers, but that 
being denied me, I have been obliged in this 
bookine to resort to actualities which are veri- 
fiable. . Of course, there are some lies in 
it. Yes, there are; but the important features 
in the narration, such as the Post Office, the 
Sun Building, Brooklyn Bridge, and Jamaica 
Bay, are all real. 

W. T. Call. 


New York, 
June, 1915. 


4 


BLACKMAIL 


CHAPTER I 

On the first page of the eleven o’clock fore- 
noon edition of a New York evening news- 
paper, June 12, 1914, there is an interesting 
account of the capture of a blackmailer. The 
head lines are of double column measure in the 
large full-face type sometimes used when a 
reporter gets hold of sensational details that 
may become a scoop, beat, or exclusive for his 
paper. 

The early issues of the afternoon dailies are 
known to the staff as the home edition, the 
mail edition, the country edition, or by some 
other significant byname. I have long had a 
fondness for these first run issues, because 
5 


they frequently give entertaining or instruc- 
tive miscellany that later in the day is killed 
to make room for what is regarded as impor- 
tant news. 

Whether the article here referred to was 
printed because of its being the sort called in 
editorial rooms a “ good story,” or whether it 
was an exact account of an actual happening, 
I do not know. My interest was confined to 
the particulars as presented. One of New 
York’s keenest business schemers once said to 
me: “A thing is as you present it.” 

Now here in print was a remarkable black- 
mailing case. 

- What was the threat ? 

What was the plan ? 

How was the transfer to be made? 

On which side of the contest were the 
brains — the real brains — the winner ? 

These were the questions that caused me to 
read every word of that narrative with eager- 
ness. Others probably were interested in the 
account more or less, but I was greatly inter- 
6 


estecl in it, for I had once done some careful 
work in this species of — shall I call it, in my 
case, strategy, knavery, daring, or dementia? 
I have no plea to make on that point. 

By piecing together parts of the reporter’s 
recital I am able to give here the essentials of 
the newspaper story without altering the words 
of the relator : 

The idea of attempting to hold up the 
steamship company suggested itself to him 
when he saw the newspaper accounts and 
pictures of the big ocean giant, the Aquitania, 
which came over on her maiden trip a few 
weeks ago. The youth (he is 19 years old) 
declared that he was not only without an 
accomplice in his daring plot, but that he had 
not so much as mentioned it to any of his 
associates. He said he worked out the de- 
tails of the scheme and composed the letters 
during brief periods of rest while running 
errands for a Broadway printing concern. 

He was moved to his Wild West undertak- 
ing by a desire to aid his mother, who is 
confined to her home in Brooklyn with an 
incurable disease. The elaborate way in 
which he went about his venture makes the 
authorities believe that he is a dangerous 
criminal. He admits that he once served a 
term in Elmira. 


7 


Three letters were received by the com- 
pany before the steps were taken that re- 
sulted in the capture. The first came through 
the mail about three weeks ago, and the 
threat it carried was supposed to have refer- 
ence to the new Aquitania. This message 
instructed the officers of the line to place an 
advertisement in a Sunday newspaper in 
token of their willingness to comply with the 
demand for money, after which arrangements 
for the actual transfer of the cash were to be 
made. 

As for the payment of the sum stipulated, 
the blackhander specified that the company’s 
agent should board the West Shore Rail- 
road’s fast train, the Buffalonian, at Wee- 
hawken last night, station himself on the rear 
platform, and at a signal of three blasts from 
a police whistle, which the writer was to give 
from a secreted position somewhere along the 
railroad track “ at some point between Wee- 
hawken and Buffalo,” toss the package off the 
train. 

When the darkness fell the police captain 
took eighteen of the best detectives of the 
department, and two paper packages made up 
to represent paper money, and repaired to 
Weehawken. The captain took his stand on 
the rear of the Buffalonian with one of the 
packages in his hand, and a rifle within easy 
reach, while eight of the detectives, also heav- 
ily armed, took seats in the rear of the car. 

8 


Nine more detectives boarded a special 
train, which had been assigned to follow the 
Buffalonian to make sure that the trap did 
not fail through any slowness on the part of 
the blackmailer in getting into position or 
giving the signal for the first train. 

As the Buffalonian sped into West View 
the captain heard the three whistle blasts. 

He immediately dropped his package over the 
platform railing'. One of the detectives on 
the inside jerked the bellcord, and the train 
came to a quick stop. A red lantern was 
flashed, the special train hove to, and in less 
time than it takes to tell it nineteen armed 
detectives were swarmed along the railroad 
right of way. The youth was found in a 
clump of bushes, holding fast to the dummy 
package. 

The blackmail letters indicated that the 
threat was to be consummated by placing 
dynamite in the coal bunkers of the steam- 
ship. The amount demanded by the black- 
mailer was $10,000. 

This account shows how easily professional 
detectives may outwit an unprofessional black- 
mailer who works without a confederate. 


9 


CHAPTER II 


There is in most every person a gnawing 
desire to use his strength, to test his powers. 
We all love to plan and plot, to control and op- 
erate. It is a habit of consciousness — that 
curious attribute of being which Huxley re- 
garded as the most wonderful thing in the 
world. And this recalls the remark to his 
mother of that fine but singular gentleman, 
Kenelm Chillingly, when a boy : “ Mamma, 

are you not sometimes overpowered by the 
sense of your own identity ? ” Chillingly, by 
the way, knew that the physical basis of life 
may be relied upon to neutralize any evil effect 
from silly introspection. 

The planning habit, begun in childhood, 
through association and imitation, becomes a 
charm in youth, a necessity in early manhood, 
a mania in middle life, and a despair in old 
age. 

lO 


There was no attempt at fine writing* in the 
trimmings of the article. The artistry lay in 
the circumstantial touches in narration such as 
mark the writings of N. P. Willis, Bayard 
Taylor, Fitzhugh Ludlow, and the bohemians 
of their day, whose aim was verisimilitude and 
easy reading. On the first perusal of the ac- 
count I was captivated by the ingenuity of the 
idea — a man with a package of money, stand- 
ing on the rear platform of a fast train with 
orders to toss the package off “at some point 
between Weehawken and Buffalo.” It ap- 
peared to be a very clever conception. Further 
consideration, however, brought up several 
puzzling questions that made the affair look 
dubious for both sides. 

How was the blackmailer to get the dyna- 
mite into the coal bunkers, if the threat was 
to be taken seriously ? 

What strength was there in that kind of a 
threat, anyway? 

How was the blackmailer sure his whistle 
would be heard by the man on the whizzing, 
thundering train ? 


II 


Would not the sound of a police whistle be 
likely to excite the attention of any one within 
a wide radius? 

Knowing just what was to happen, would 
it not be easy enough for the authorities to 
notify the police of each town along the route 
to patrol at a distance every section of track? 

When he got the package why did the black- 
mailer have to wait in the bushes to be caught ? 

On the other hand, was it likely that so 
fast a train could be stopped soon enough by 
pulling the bell cord for the detectives to get 
back to the scene in time? 

Would the special train follow the express so 
closely that the second party of detectives could 
get to the place in season to block the getaway 
■ — the prime essential in the plans of every 
sane crook? 

These questions and several others not here 
put down are the kind that would cause a care- 
ful thinker to hesitate about expressing ad- 
miration for the farsightedness of either of 
the parties to the affair.- Of course, I could 


12 


have cleared up these points by applying at 
the offices of the persons concerned, but, as 
previously stated, I had no curiosity in the 
matter beyond the tale as told. All blackmail 
schemes interest me in direct ratio to their 
feasibility, without regard to whether they are 
fact or fiction. It is the play of the strategy 
that titillates the intellect. 

Blackmailing, because of its being a third 
degree test of acuteness, is one of the most 
fascinating subjects of thought in the cate- 
gories of crime. To be able to cause a rich 
man to hand over a large sum of money for 
nothing, is a triumph in finesse. To be able 
to bring a man of real courage to his knees by 
means of a mere letter is to win a battle of 
brains. It is a contest in cleverness. In the 
patter of the profesh this idea is expressed 
sententiously thus : “ It takes a fly mug to 

turn the trick.” 

The foundation on which the plotter builds 
his precious scheme is necessarily fear. 
You must not (that is, you ought not to) say 


13 


a person shows lack of courage until you get 
to the bottom of the matter, and learn what 
kind of fear is racking him. By reflection you 
will find that there are stronger animating 
forces in the workings of the human machine 
than courage. There are influences that may 
nullify courage. Love, for instance, may 
dominate, or expediency, or even indolence. 

Various things of this kind I felt obliged 
to think out to my own satisfaction as pre- 
liminaries at the time I undertook to demon- 
strate the fine art of blackmail. To the 
superficial observer a tedious study of the 
minutiae of preparedness is finical, but that it 
is the method of experience in roguery is at- 
tested in the following words detached from 
the reminiscences of a detective : “ It could 

be successfully carried only by men of brains 
and skill who had the patience to study their 
enterprise well before entering upon it. Few 
people have any idea of the amount of study 
put into such a job before any attempt to real- 
ize is made.” 


14 


CHAPTER III 


The start of my adventure was made on the 
porch of a summer hotel. There were five 
men, including myself, lounging in the ample 
chairs, discussing without animation the bun- 
gling methods of blackmailers. It was the 
majority opinion that it is absurd to suppose 
the delivery of the money in such cases can be 
successfully forced unless the victim himself 
is afraid to try to outwit the party of the first 
part. 

“ The transfer,” said one, “ must be made 
at some specified point, or between two given 
points ; and money can be followed anywhere.” 

“ That is not necessarily true,” I ventured. 

It is a question of close thinking. The ordi- 
nary thug or crook has not trained himself 

15 


along the lines of logical sequence. He has 
learned to rely too confidently on force and 
cunning. A great chess player safeguards 
himself against the accumulation of small ad- 
vantages by his opponent. The crook scorns 
little things until he has been compelled to take 
them into his calculations. Not before he was 
driven to see the possible significance of finger- 
prints did he learn to wear gloves. It seems 
to me that the absurdity in this question lies 
in claiming that the money cannot be trans- 
ferred without the detectives being able, when 
working with a free hand, to follow or sur- 
round it.” 

This speech was condemned as tommyrot, 
and the contention that followed led to the 
challenging question: 

“ Can you mention one, only one, possible 
method of effecting such a delivery ? ” 

“ Wel-1,” I replied, “ I was down at the 
Battery one day last spring, and happened to 
notice a young fellow releasing some birds 
from a kind of crate. The birds flew around 

i6 


far up, straggled along over the East River, 
and in a little while disappeared. He told me 
they were homers bound for East New York. 
Now I want to know how detectives are going 
to follow such carriers, except in flying ma- 
chines that cannot light on pigeon houses.” 

The merriment this caused upset the discus- 
sion ; but the conclusion that a delivery could 
not be made without detection remained with 
me as a subject of thought, and when alone 
I tried to concoct a plan that would work in 
defiance of the best brains in the detective 
profession. 

It was an agreeable antidote to sameness, 
and I got hold of a number of feasible schemes 
involving confederates. But what I wanted 
was a one-man game — my brain against the 
bunch. This became so much of a problem as 
soon as examined for the other side that noth- 
ing but an inclination for intellectual pastimes 
kept me at it. Solutions are apt to come like 
inspirations when we have worked persist- 
ently, and one day just the idea I was looking 
for came to me. 


17 


First I made sure that my part in the trans- 
action should be simple as well as practicable. 
Then I went to work on the other end, and 
examined the details. Not in a day, nor in a 
week, but finally, I became convinced that if 
I were a detective I could not beat that kind 
of game. So I concluded that it was time for 
me to meet in person or by letter the challenge 
of my friends of the hotel porch. But would 
they not laugh it all away as they had the 
pigeon notion? They probably would handle 
it sarcastically, or at least say : “ That is 

clever ; but is it pragmatic — will it work ? ” 
4-irhe only way to stop that inevitable query 
was to try the project. So I decided that I 
would make a job of the matter, and actually 
blackmail some one. The justification for this 
rash resolve was that I would return the 
money with a full account of the genesis of the 
affair, and a promise that I would some day 
disclose my identity. 

Mice and men are not proof against acci- 
dent. I must cover possibilities as well as 

i8 


probabilities. I wrote out a synopsis of the 
experiment, including my intentions, and put it 
away in a sealed envelope. This, with the fact 
that I had no real incentive for a criminal ac- 
tion of the kind, seemed to me insurance 
enough for the occasion. That there was un- 
covered risk in the undertaking I fully real- 
ized. It is not the business of the police to 
know the difference between an experiment in 
crime and a felony, and judges are usually so 
absorbed in the importance of their trust that 
they are apt to consider only the serious side 
of a practical joke. But if there were no 
charm in danger life would be duller than it is. 

The last stage of the preparatory labor was 
difficult. Whom should I blackmail? It is 
easy to choose this kind of victim for some one 
else, but I found it hard to pick one for my- 
self. Kidnaping, working for a ransom, was 
completely out of the running, not only be- 
cause it necessitated accomplices, but because 
it spelled cruelty, and could not possibly be 
turned into a humorsome adventure. 


19 


As to the amount of money to be demanded, 
that must be small — must not exceed $5,000. 
In fact, that appeared to be in every respect 
the ideal sum. It would give the impression 
of a necessary levy rather than a trumped-up 
tribute. It would indicate extreme earnest- 
ness. The victim ought to be a man physi- 
cally, mentally, and financially O. K. 

These essentials having been determined, I 
went to the club day after day, and sized up 
the older men, who begin to come in regularly 
about eleven o’clock, and lounge around to 
nurse their livers over the noon hours. Most 
of them I concluded would make a big fuss 
about $5,000, real money, and for them to be 
obliged to endure the bother of blackmail was 
distressing to imagine. Turning my attention 
to the afternoon crowd, the younger men, who 
assemble from four o’clock on for pool, clan- 
destine poker and the uplift of the bar, I 
found no desirable $5,000 subject among them. 
Then I bought from an addressing company 
for eight dollars a selected list of persons 


20 


rated as worth $100,000 or more. This was 
a useless expense. Next I turned to a direc- 
tory of directors, to an elite directory, and 
finally to the news of high society in the dailies 
and weeklies — in vain. 

The hunt was continued in a rather dis- 
couraged way in many directions for nearly a 
month. The impression was gaining ground 
with me that after all the chief difficulty in 
blackmail was finding a suitable victim. But 
at last in the same old way the flash came. 
It arrived indirectly through overhearing a 
remark. One man said to another : “ Why 

do you always look away off somewhere for 
something you could find right under your 
nose? ” 

That was an amusing bit of homely wisdom, 
and I lowered the paper I was trying to read 
while holding on to a strap in a crowded car, 
and looked about. He was there. 

I would blackmail a recently graduated col- 
lege man with whose name, face, and money 
qualifications I happened to be acquainted. 


21 


He had lately become engaged, and I knew the 
young lady’s name. I was not personally ac- 
quainted with either of the affianced. One of 
the attractive features of the selection was the 
strength of the threat it suggested. That was 
a point of the utmost importance. 


22 


CHAPTER IV 


All the conditions and circumstances about 
the selected victim were to my liking, and I 
analyzed them with confidence. 

He was of the Samurai — that class of 
under-nobility (in Japan) who place the title 
of gentleman before that of Lord. He had 
not had time for his faith in the honor and 
glorious privilege of living to become dull, and 
accepted the joy of life at its fiat value. He 
wore good clothes, and wore them so well 
that one would hardly notice that they were 
good. His type may be seen in numbers now 
and then in the semi-exclusive and mildly rich 
little cafes half concealed in the massive build- 
ings of the lower part of downtown New 
York. They may be observed stepping 
strongly along the old lanes now called Pine 


23 


and Cedar Streets. When they mingle in the 
vapid life of the garish restaurants of the 
theater zone they appear unvulgarlarized. 

A young man of this grade I knew could 
not be frightened by any crude threat. He 
must be touched in the quick to unman him. 

But I believed I had him, for she was his 
princess. Here was a case of the later chiv- 
alry, and I knew how to pierce his armor. 

To give distinctness to this part of the 
groundwork of my plan, I turned to marked 
passages in certain books on my shelves, and 
found that she had been word-painted by the 
portly Chesterton thus : “ Her brown hair 

framed one of those magic faces that are dan- 
gerous to all men, but especially to boys and 
men growing gray.” That was the elusive 
idea exactly — “ One of those magic faces ! ” — 
that was Alice ! And no wonder ; for her 
mother was that beautifully feminine and 
singularly fine creature who had served as 
“Teacher” in Sally McLean’s “Cape Cod 
Folks.” 


24 


And the kind of spell that held them I dis- 
covered beside a telltale mark in Tourgee’s 
powerful “ Bricks Without Straw,” thus : 
“ Their eyes spoke ; and they greeted each 
other with kisses of liquid light when their 
glances met.” 

What a motive for me to operate on ! The 
threat would not be difficult to frame up. I 
felt strong. 


25 


CHAPTER V 


Separating the Heights in Brooklyn from 
the East River is a canon extending from the 
old Wall Street Ferry to Fulton Ferry. It is 
called Furman Street. On the side near the 
river are warehouses and -a few solid, grim- 
looking buildings for storage or manufactur- 
ing. The opposite side of this somewhat 
periculous thoroughfare is the wall that forms 
the abutment of the terraced gardens of resi- 
dences on the Heights. This long stretch of 
wall is nearly as high as the buildings across 
the street, and has no stairways. 

It occurred to me one day, while musing 
over the curious effect of this great wall, that 
by means of a cord a person on top of the 
wall could receive a package from a person in 
the street, and disappear long before any one 


could get to the spot from below. The person 
on top of the wall, however, would be exposed 
to the gaze of any one who might be in a 
nearby window. 

That would not do. But the idea seemed 
good, and I wondered whether it would not 
work out neatly in a nice secluded place on the 
Palisades. Perhaps it would ; but I knew well 
enough that if I went to the Palisades I should 
find the right spots scarce and the real diffi- 
culties plentiful. 

This fiddling with notions, however, was not 
waste. It was practice, and helpful to me in 
getting from the complex and difficult to the 
simple and easy. I was in no haste now that 
I had the chief problems well in hand, and I 
looked around without impatience until I hit 
on the method and place that suited me. 

It is now proper for me, as party of the 
first part, to step aside and let the selected vic- 
tim, as party of the second part, take up the 
narration, also in the first person. The man- 
ner in which his story was obtained for these 


27 


pages will be made clear farther on. It is 
pleasant to state that his story shows how ac- 
accurately my analysis of effects and motives 
had been, and that the unusual pains I had 
taken with seemingly extraneous matters were 
correct procedure. 

But it is perhaps well for me first to run 
over some general considerations in order to 
clear the way for his straightforward recital. 


28 


CHAPTER VI 


Whether to include in the threat the in- 
junction that he must do his part secretly was 
a point to be considered. I believed I could 
make him unwilling to let any one know any- 
thing about the transaction. But this would 
not be the kind of test I wished to make. So 
I decided to ignore that phase of the matter, 
and let him do as he pleased. He would then 
undoubtedly get the best detective talent he 
could command, and it would be my business 
to outwit them. That, in fact, was the kernel 
of the nut. 

There was one item in the long list of things 
to think of that made me shiver. I had 
planned to use the United States mails. Yet 
I had no longing for a tussle with the Secret 
Service. The kind of men the National 


29 


Government somehow gets hold of, in spite 
of the long reach of the fingers of politics, is 
exceedingly offensive to fine criminal taste. 
But there is no substitute for the mails, and 
the thing to do was to make the victim act so 
expeditiously that there would not be one 
chance in a hundred of his informing the 
postal authorities. By limiting his time, I be- 
lieved he would go to a first class detective 
agency for advice or action. 

The ordinary plain clothes men of the city 
police do their work well enough, but depend 
so much on stool pigeons, informers, and 
“ throwing a scare ’’ into suspected persons, 
that they are not nicely adjusted to fine work. 

On the other hand, the detectives of highly 
exciting stories and sensational plays are not 
such as I would have to deal with. To get as 
much information as possible about the meth- 
ods of the sort of persons who would probably 
be my natural enemies for a brief period, I 
read such biographies and reminiscences of 
their fellows as I could pick up in the old 


30 


book stores. In one little book by “ An Old 
Detective ” I ran across a paragraph that con- 
firmed my general impressions, as follows: 

“ Nor does the detective have recourse to 
mysterious disguises in accomplishing the dif- 
ficult task of shadowing. When engaged on 
a long job he will put on a different hat and 
a different suit of clothes about once a week, 
just as ordinary citizens do ; but as for altering 
his appearance in any other way he never 
thinks of it. False beards, false mustaches, 
queer goggles, and lightning changes of cloth- 
ing and character only exist in the imagina- 
tions of writers who in their books and stories 
have made of the detective a creature such as 
never existed on this or any other planet, and 
one grotesquely unlike the real article. Not 
only are such theatrical disguises unnecessary, 
but they would defeat the purpose, and result 
in the detective’s immediate betrayal ; for there 
never was invented either on or off the stage 
any makeup involving false wigs, false noses, 
etc., that would not be detected by the casual 


31 


observer as surely as he would detect the 
presence of a cork leg in some passerby.” 

How the detectives would go about the mat- 
ter in my case I could form no satisfactory 
opinion, and I did not care what they would 
do or try to do. 

My quarry will now do the talking. 


CHAPTER VII 


In the second week of October I, the so- 
called party of the second part, received at my 
home an annoying letter. It was inclosed in 
a hotel envelope, and was written with a blunt 
lead pencil on the yellowish paper of the com- 
mon commercial or school pad. It had been 
laboriously printed out, with every letter a 
capital. There was no shading, ornament, or 
other characteristic so far as I observed. 
Type of that style, I understand, is called 
Gothic. There was no punctuation or para- 
graphing. It looked like a page of incunabula, 
and ran as follows : 


I must have five thousand dollars and you 
must give it to me. I may give it back some 
day. I am not a crank. I am in awful dan- 
ger. You can save me. If you refuse I 
shall give up, but I swear you shall suffer 
first. As this is the last cry of one man 


to another, do you dare hesitate to save a 
soul from hell? You have done me no harm. 

You do not know me, but will if you refuse. 
Next Monday stand on the steps of the New 
York Sun Building at noon, 12 o’clock, for 
five minutes to show that you do not refuse. 
Then you will get a letter telling you what 
to do. If you are not there Alice will be 
disfigured for life. 

There was no signature. The communica- 
tion was disturbing, but not alarming. It was 
evidently intended for what some persons 
might consider a practical joke. The threat 
against Alice, to whom I was engaged, showed 
that it was probably a prank of some young 
person, perhaps an office boy, or possibly a 
schoolgirl crowd eager for a lark. I put the 
missive into my pocket, and dismissed the 
matter from my mind. 

The next morning, Sunday, just before I 
got up, it occurred to me that the letter might 
perhaps prove to be no joke, if ignored. 
What if the threat should be carried to the 
point of giving Alice an actual scare? From 
this notion I passed to the possibility of some 


34 


one’s throwing acid at her in the rage of 
despair, and before I was fully dressed I had 
worked myself up into a state of alarm. 

If the threat had been made against me 
alone, I would have known just what to do. 
But Alice ! And what would her mother say 
about me if anything did happen? And what 
would they all say if I took the letter to Alice, 
and left it to her family to decide? Would 
they surround her for weeks with detectives? 
Would they pack her oflf for a long stay? 
Would they offer to give me $5,000 to relieve 
them of the mystery and the worry? 

The problem of how to treat that absurd 
letter was not so easily cleared as I had at first 
supposed. Having spoken to no one about the 
matter, I decided during the forenoon that I 
would rather pay the $5,000, if necessary, than 
stand the anxiety. 

In this state of mind I showed the letter to 
my uncle, a corporation lawyer living at the 
Plaza, whose advice I had occasionally sought 
in personal matters. He was more grave 
35 


about it than I expected, and urged me to go 
without delay to Police Headquarters for an 
expert opinion. I replied that that would not 
do at all, as they would surely make a case of 
it, which might bring our names into the pa- 
pers. Then he said I must see the chief of 
some first class detective agency. 

This I did Monday morning. 

The Chief, either for business reasons or 
for something he saw in the appearance or 
wording of the letter, advised me to appear on 
the steps of the Sun Building at the appointed 
time, and to bring the next letter, if any, to 
him. 

This I agreed to do. 

The feeling I had when standing on the 
steps those five minutes was a singular mix- 
ture of sensations. There were three detec- 
tives at points near by, but the expected did 
not happen. We had concluded that the joker 
or jokers would come up in a merry way, and 
say they had decided to let me out with a 
luncheon at Mouquin’s at my expense. If this 
36 


had happened the joke was to be turned on to 
them, as wrath had taken the place of indig- 
nation. The detectives found nothing in the 
passing crowds to arouse their suspicions, and 
I caught no face that indicated anything sig- 
nificant to me. I learned afterward that the 
observer had seen me through one of the win- 
dow openings in the approach to the Brooklyn 
Bridge. 

That evening the second letter came. It 
was made up in the same way as the first, 
and ran as follows: 

Put fifty one hundred dollar bills in a 
strong envelope, take that with you and ask 
for a letter at the Post Office at 12 o’clock 
to-morrow, Tuesday. 

This letter I took at once to the home of the 
Chief, and he told me to be at his office soon 
after ten o’clock in the morning. He said the 
time was so short that he would have to work 
a good part of the night to get together the 
force he wanted, and to map out his plan. 
He remarked that he did not know how far 
37 


I 

the affair might be carried, and asked me about 
the expense to which I was willing to go. I 
inquired what the chances were of his getting 
his man, if it proved to be a serious matter. 
He replied that he could surely get him or 
her if given a free hand, and if I would do 
what he instructed me to do. I told him to 
go ahead, and spare no expense, but to make 
sure that there should be no failure. I said 
that it must be done in such a way that I 
should not have to go through the thing a sec- 
ond time. I did not want to get a letter 
telling me to try again, this time alone — 
without detectives. The only other point I 
insisted on was that it must be real money in 
the envelope. He hesitated there, and then 
agreed to that stipulation. If he was sure of 
getting his man I did not see why he hesi- 
tated about my using real money ; but he did 
hesitate, and he made the concession unwill- 
ingly. 

His instructions then were to get the bills 
as soon as the banks opened in the morning, 
38 


and to be at his office as early as possible. 
In the meantime I was to have a black band 
put on a brown derby hat, and to wear the 
thing. 

There were at least a dozen persons seated 
in the Chief’s office when I arrived with the 
money. They were quarter-masked, and wore 
dusters or raincoats. Some of these individ- 
uals were women. The Chief explained this 
spectacular feature by stating that it was 
merely for the purpose of enabling them to 
look me over without my being able to recog- 
nize them at any turn of events, thus avoiding 
action on my part that might be a lead for 
suspicious eyes. 

He told me to place the letter I. was to call 
for at the Post Office in the outer left hand 
pocket of my coat. That pocket would be 
picked by one of his force. Any other com- 
munication I received was to be put in the 
same pocket for the same purpose. 

I suggested a revolver, but he said that 
might lead to the defeat of his plans, and 
39 


would not help me keep my wits about me, 
which was an important condition to success 
in this sort of thing. He drilled into me the 
necessity of finding ways to cause delay should 
I come to a place at any time that was so 
exposed his people could not get near enough 
to me for their purposes. Finally he filled my 
right hand pocket with chopped paper of 
about the fineness of confetti disks. That was 
not to be used unless the situation made it 
necessary for me to leave traces of my course. 
I asked him whether he thought the affair a 
hoax, and he replied that it might be, but that 
he must take no chances in the preparations. 

The raincoat force had gone into another 
room, and while waiting for the appointed 
hour to go to the post office I pumped the 
Chief. He was perfectly frank, and displayed 
none of the wise looks and mysterious poses 
of the traditional detective. He reminded me 
of a full-habited, quiet-nerved doctor of my 
acquaintance, who is a rather fine fellow in 
spite of the ethics of the profession he adorns. 


40 


He showed me how the bills in the envelope 
had been recorded and marked for identifica- 
tion by an assistant while we were talking. 
The marks were a few little dots in India ink 
and some slight curlycues made as continua- 
tions of the engraved curves. He said the 
size of his force was unusual for this kind of 
case, but that the precautions were desirable, 
although not more than two or three might 
be called upon to do anything decisive. 

He said his theory was that the delivery 
would be made in some nearby office building, 
perhaps by passing the envelope from the win- 
dow of one building across an open space to 
an adjoining building. Possibly I would be 
called upon to throw the envelope into an 
automobile as it passed me in some street 
at a corner affording a clear view in all direc- 
tions. At any rate he had provided three fast 
automobiles, and had distributed his people 
among them in such groups that they would 
not at once be spotted by sharp eyes as detec- 
tives. The smallness of the amount demanded 


41 


indicated not more than one accomplice, he 
thought. He had no doubt there was at least 
one confederate, as crooks, even more than 
ordinary persons, crave the moral support of 
a side-partner. 

Yes, he said, he had consulted a handwrit- 
ing expert, who had found nothing in the 
communication but a few indications of a gen- 
eral nature. There was a sharp finish to the 
lettering that pointed to a person of a higher 
class than the usual blackmailer. Besides, al- 
though there was evidence of unusual care, the 
habits of the writer made him forget himself, 
and he had not been able to keep from auto- 
matically putting in a comma and two periods. 
The most significant thing, however, was the 
wording of the message. There was no fire in 
it. The whole thing was mechanical and tame. 

“ That may be,” I replied ; “ but it did its 
work all right.” 

“ Well,” he answered, “ that is what we call 
a subjective effect. You are not in a judicial 
state of mind.” 


42 


‘ The Chief here smiled, and added : “ This 

is going to cost you something.” 

“ But you seem to feel sure of getting him,” 
I ventured. 

“ Oh, of course we’ll get him,” he replied. 

He said the fact that I had not been in- 
structed to provide myself with plenty of 
expense money showed that there was to be 
no long journey. With a final caution for me 
not to be self-conscious about my hat, and to 
go slow at any place where a detective could 
not safely keep me in sight, he called time. 

I went to the post office, and the promised 
letter was delivered to me. It was similar in 
appearance to the others. I opened it at the 
writing stand, and read as follows: 

Take Smith Street car at Brooklyn Bridge. 

Get ofif at Church Avenue. Go to barroom 
on the corner. Ask for letter for you. 

I went to the bridge, as instructed, and the 
letter was taken from my pocket in the crowd 
waiting for the car, as I knew by a slight 
nudge. I felt sure a detective went on the 
43 


car with me, but could not pick him or her 
out. The journey of about forty minutes 
was uneventful. As I entered the saloon I 
saw the new letter on the glasses in front of 
the mirror. I asked for a mild fizz, and in- 
quired whether there was any mail for me in 
care of the place. The letter was delivered 
without comment. 

I did not open it at once, but passed out, 
and stood on the curb, where I broke the seal. 
I knew the automobiles must be in the neigh- 
borhood, but none of them was in sight. I 
was curious to know where this letter would 
be taken from my pocket. It was not secured 
at once; but as I walked slowly about, waiting 
for a car, an ordinary-looking woman came up 
to me, and asked the way to Fort Hamilton 
Parkway. She got the letter neatly while I 
was shaking my head and telling her that I 
did not know. This communication read : 

Take car on Church Avenue going east. 

Get off at Flatbush Avenue. Go to cigar 
store next to bank. Get letter for you. 


44 


There was no one in the cigar store but the 
saleswoman and a young fellow who was get- 
ting some cigarettes. I bought a cigar, asked 
for mail, received the letter, opened and read 
it in the store, and the boyish appearing chap 
got it there. This amused me a little as I had 
not thought of him in that capacity. This let- 
ter was not so brief as the others, and I wrote 
out its points on the margin of a newspaper 
I carried for occasional diversion. It read as 
follows : 

Take Flatbush Avenue car to Bergen Beach. 

You may have to change cars twice. Soon 
after passing through the woods at the Beach 
stop the car, and go to Biggie’s Hotel, which 
is the first place you come to on the shore. 

Ask for a letter. 

Now I felt that I was nearing my journey’s 
end, and in about half an hour I noticed that 
I was being led to a place it would be difficult 
for the detectives to reach unobserved. The 
hotel was isolated, and any one approaching 
it could be plainly seen. 

I had been obliged to change at the car yard, 
45 


or depot as it is called, since the last leg of 
the trip is by a single buffalo, or shuttle, car, 
which runs to the so-called Beach. The car 
track, I observed, lay along a made road for 
half a mile or more across a wide stretch of 
marsh, and there was no other way to get 
down there without wading and swimming. 
In the car there were three passengers besides 
myself, but I felt sure there was no detective 
in the group. They all knew the conductor 
and motorman, and were unmistakably familiar 
with the affairs of that out-of-the-way place. 

How the detectives were to get over that 
part of the route without being spotted, in case 
of a watcher, mystified me. An automobile 
might have reached the car yard before I got 
there, and could have gone on to the woods, or 
grove ahead of me, but only at the risk of be- 
ing suspected. Three of the detectives did get 
to the hotel ahead of me, however, and I 
learned that they had gone there in the cov- 
ered delivery wagon of a grocer whose place of 
business was in the old town of Flatlands, near 
46 


the car yard. Two of them got into the hotel 
without undue exposure, ordered beer, and 
were sitting at a round table when I arrived. 
The third was slowly driving hack toward the 
woods when I left the car, but I thought noth- 
ing of it. 

As I walked to the hotel I was glad I had 
actual money in the envelope, as the place I 
had come to might be first class for crabbing, 
eeling, and clamming, but was too much like 
a deserted village of shacks to invite stratagem 
on my part. The woman in charge of the 
premises asked me two or three questions be- 
fore bringing out my letter. She was soon 
satisfied, however, that I was there for the pur- 
pose of making arrangements for a fishing 
party, and paid no further attention to me. I 
opened the letter within ten feet of the two 
men. It was possible, of course, that they 
were accomplices. The letter surprised me, 
as I expected to have to hand the money over 
right there, or be made to go to a room in the 
hotel for that purpose. It read : 


47 


Go out on pier to sign on boathouse which 
reads, No Fishing Allowed. Behind this 
sign, under the edge of the roof is a hole. 

Put your hand in, and take out the letter 
there. 

I put this letter into my pocket, and began 
to loiter the best I could. One of the men 
asked me the time of day. I told him it was 
half past three. He inquired whether I 
wanted to hire a boat, and walked toward the 
door as if to point one out, taking the letter 
as he passed. I was not particularly aston- 
ished at this, and went out on the porch, spar- 
ring for time, as I knew neither of them 
would dare follow me. There seemed to be 
no way for them to get at the next letter, which 
was almost surely the last, without exposure 
on the very verge of the delivery. I went 
alone out on the pier. No one followed me. 
Under the corner of the sign I found this 
message : 

Hire a rowboat from the man in the boat- 
house or on the float. Go alone. Look east. 
Look at church steeple across the water. 

48 


Row fast straight for it. Look for white rag 
on stick in grass. Go to it. Tie end of ' 
string 3^ou find there tight round envelope. 
Row back. Good-by. 

All I could do in that situation was to 
follow instructions. That the detectives 
could get this final message from my pocket 
appeared hopeless. I hired a rowboat from 
the man on the float, and started in the di- 
rection of the church steeple alone, and with 
the letter still in my pocket. I felt compelled 
to row naturally to avoid suspicion, and the 
boat moved with annoying rapidity through 
the quiet shallow water. I wondered what 
would have happened in case of a squall so 
violent that I could not have gone out in the 
boat. The distance I had to row looked to be 
less than half a mile, and the steeple appeared 
to be far inland. The detective had not been 
able to get this final message. 

I saw that the arm of Jamaica Bay I was 
crossing was continued far away in flats, 
marsh, and meadow, and that the automobiles 


49 


could not go around in time, even if the de- 
tectives had known my destination. For all 
any one on shore could tell I might, and prob- 
ably would, proceed up a creek into the vast 
stretch of marsh. To follow me with a 
motor boat would be worse than useless. 

I was now more than glad that I had not 
left all the details to the Chief, but had in- 
sisted on using actual money. I wanted the 
thing over — settled once for all. Every man 
has to pay the price of his happiness, in one 
way or another. Mine was humiliating; but, 
after all, I was doing my part, and would later 
on see what could be done to clear up the 
matter. Such were my thoughts. 

On landing, my first inclination was to fol- 
low the course of the stout dark-colored cord 
through the boggy soil and meadow grass to 
the bushy lair about three hundred feet dis- 
tant. The difficulty of doing this quickly not 
only gave my antagonist time to get away, 
but from his place of concealment he could 
hold me up, if so inclined. The wisdom of the 
50 


Chief in not allowing me to have a revolver 
was now apparent, and precluded the possi- 
bility of my acting rashly. 

So I tied the envelope with the string, with- 
out attempting any trickery with the knot, 
knowing the light envelope would slide over 
the grass without catching, slumped to the 
boat, rowed rapidly across to the. Beach, and 
about an hour and a half later faced the Chief 
in his office. 


51 


CHAPTER VIII 


The party of the second part having re- 
lated his side of the affair, I, the party of the 
first part, here resume the recital. 

Safely screened by bushes, with a hundred 
yards of cord between me and the white rag, 
I saw the victim making his way with good 
even strokes across the narrow stretch of 
open water. With the field glasses I had I 
was able to make sure he was alone, and to 
watch out for any preparations to follow him 
in a motor boat. 

I had covered the minutest details to avoid 
detection, even to getting a pair of second- 
hand shoes with broad soles, so my foot- 
prints would not be a clew. I had reached 
the scene more than an hour before the boat 
was hired, and had made the arrangements 
52 


without interruption, as that part of the shore 
is a forsaken region, with no house or other 
building within reach of the voice. Even if 
a chance stroller had come that way I should 
have had no fear for my personal safety. No 
such unlikely thing occurred, and I saw the 
victim steadily approaching. 

When he was well advanced I felt that my 
plan was a success, and I could not help imag- 
ining the chagrin of my friends of the hotel 
porch. The rower seemed to look about him 
as if taking in the advantages the situation 
gave me. Whether he was determined or 
discouraged I could not know — but the get- 
away was mine. Once in turning about to 
make sure he was headed in the right direc- 
tion an oar slipped from the rowlock into the 
water. This was disturbing to me, and he 
appeared awkward in recovering it. The in- 
cident, natural enough in itself, had a curious 
effect on my tense mind. I became strangely 
suspicious. I began to feel chilly sensations. 
A reaction was setting in. I seemed to view 


53 


all I had done as in a swift-moving panorama. 
I had visions. Something like a dreadful 
mirage hung over the glistening boat, and I 
saw as distinctly as if it were actually there 
in the sky the outlines of a monstrous tele- 
phone. The town of Canarsie was but a 
short distance away. I visualized a horde of 
policemen running in every direction to the 
shore. Not a second was to be lost, and not 
a fraction of a second was lost by me, at 
least. My only purpose now was to get as 
far from the scene as possible. Once well 
inland I was free to think. The vision was 
blessed. 

In talking over the matter that night with 
a friend, I was asked why in the world I had 
not thought of the telephone before. This 
seemed unexplainable, but on reflection I 
found that my mind had been so filled with 
the idea of separating the victim from his 
shadows, and so obsessed by the deserted con- 
dition of the field of action, that there was no 
room for the commonplace. 

54 


My self-sufficiency was wrecked, but was 
propped up a little when I learned later that 
the victim himself admitted that the telephone 
did not enter his thought in that outlandish 
place. Gradually I recovered enough confi- 
dence in my acumen to lay down the prin- 
ciple, that the difference between a clever 
amateur and an ordinary professional in any 
line seems to lie in their appreciation of the 
significance of the commonplace. 

As I had seen no Canarsie policemen, and 
did not know what had become of the money, 
it was my plain duty to communicate with the 
victim. The telephone was my first thought 
now, and I called him up. He said he was 
intensely curious to know what scared the 
fellow away. I told him to state the amount 
of expense he had been put to in recovering 
the money, and he would surely be reimbursed. 
He asked me whether I was the man, and then 
begged me to meet him, on a gentleman’s foot- 
ing, assuring me that anxiety and anger had 
been displaced by a desire to hear my side of 
the affair. 


55 


So I arranged to go to his house with a 
check book in my pocket. The meeting was 
an agreeable one. He was jolly about the 
matter, and apologized for the size of the bill 
of expense. He said the detectives had taken 
him at his word, and had spared no expense. 
The bill was made out “ To Professional 
Services,” and called for a check for $943.75. 
He said that even reckoning the services of 
the principals at $100 a day each, the maxi- 
mum charge of most experts in other affairs, 
it looked excessive. I was unwilling to dis- 
pute the bill, however. I suppose it was 
classed as “ a thousand-dollar job.” 

The next day we called on the Chief, and 
I took his sneering banter in good part. He 
explained some things to me about blackmail 
with the purpose of convincing me of the 
hopelessness of my undertaking. He showed 
me some messages from blackmailers that I 
looked over with much interest. 

The Chief pooh-poohed the idea that a de- 
livery could be successfully effected, unless 
56 


the victim himself obstructed the detectives 
with conditions, or broke down in doing his 
part. 

“ My scheme,” I said, “ worked perfectly in 
all respects except for the one plain thing I 
omitted to think of.” 

“ That is always the way,” he replied. 
“ There would be no successful detectives but 
for some one little thing.” 

“ But,” I persisted, “ if I had staged the 
afifair out of range of the telephone, what 
would you have done?” 

“ That,” he replied, “ is in the nature of a 
professional secret, which I do not care to 
discuss.” 

I think that was a bluff, but I do not know. 

Should my friends of the summer hotel 
happen to see this narrative (the title may 
attract them) they will know the outcome of 
our contention. Otherwise they shall not get 
it from me. 

THE END 

57 




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BY THE SAME AUTHOR 


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vertiser. 

THE SAFE CHECKER PLAYER 

Vol. I. — The Black Side. Devoted exclusively to play; 
showing a safe course to the player who starts the game, 
however his opponent may attack him at any point. Leather, 
vest-pocket size, 50 cents. 

Vol. II. — The White Side. A companion volume; show- 
ing a safe course to the second player, however his oppo- 
nent may start the game or carry out the attack. Leather, 
vest-pocket size, 50 cents. 

“These little books contain the essence of many volumes 
of published play, and are invaluable as a short but thor- 
ough equipment for the practical player.” — Draughts World, 
Glasgow, Scotland. 

MIDGET PROBLEMS IN CHECKERS 

All the ideas in positions of 2 vs. 2 pieces. Boards, 72 
pages, 50 cents. 

“There is probably no game of which a superficial knowl- 
edge is more easily acquired than checkers, yet it is ca- 
pable of a profundity of which the average player is entirely 
Ignorant.” — Scientific American. 

W. T. CALL 


669 E. 32d St. 


Brooklyn, N. Y. 




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